


Just Out of Reach

by Jenni_Snake



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Afterlife, Canon Character of Color, Canonical Character Death, Goodbyes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 21:04:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenni_Snake/pseuds/Jenni_Snake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After so many years, they're given just moments to say goodbye.</p><p>(For Jaegercon Bingo Prompt: Goodbye)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Out of Reach

**Author's Note:**

> (Comments? Yeah, I kinda love comments...)

The room was indistinct, like staring at a vintage photograph; he was staring at it through the wrong side of the looking glass. Stacker put his hands against the mirror, flat, unreflective, and was unable to press through, damn the barrier.

Herc sat there on the corner of the bed, Max at his feet. How long had he been there? Time was a concept that was getting fuzzier. Herc sat with his elbows on his knees, his hands woven together by the fingers, staring into nothingness. Without thinking, Stacker pressed against the glass, but all he got in return was a reminder of its rigidity. So he closed his eyes, leaning his head against the frigid surface.

There was no sound, but he felt someone in front of him, and looked up to see Herc standing, looking into the mirror, clearer, sharper, more vivid than anything behind him, his eyes too incredibly blue. He used to tell him how beautiful they were, and Herc would blush a furious red which just made them stand out even more, and he'd tell him in return that his dark eyes were just as beautiful, and then blush again because he had such a hard time saying that out loud. Stacker wanted to reach through and run his hand along the the bristle of Herc’s unshaven cheek and tease him about it, rubbing his own cheek against it, and be teased back, reminded that "the thing must've crawled back onto your lip" and holding him while he laughed was the most wonderful memory. It tightened Stacker's chest: now he, too, would be nothing more than a memory, and what kind at that? His heart broke as he stared, helpless, as Herc clenched his eyes shut and the corners of his mouth were pulled down by an invisible sadness, and he let out only one sob before he caught himself, and Stacker knew now that there was only one place he would ever cry, not even on his own, but only in his arms and it was too great a burden to bear so he closed his eyes again and searched for another memory.

Being inside him and surrounded by his embrace all at the same time, Stacker pressed his face against the soft layer of hair on Herc's chest, and he was ashamed to think that this was the kind of memory that arose, but years of drifting taught him to let the thoughts take their own time to reveal their reasons. And it spoke to him, this brief moment of sheer joy, mimicking the cumulative ecstasy of the everyday in an instant: engulfed by his presence, enveloped by his arms, entwined with his soul. And he was grateful for it.

Tears soaked his own eyes, for what did it profit him to have gained the whole world only to be losing all this? Years of living side-by-side with his own mortality were nothing compared to this, seeing not what he had left behind, but how he had left it, would be leaving it. Stacker felt the waning of his own existence and desperately traced the contours of Herc's face with his mind to have with him for all eternity, knowing, somehow, that the memory wouldn't last even for this moment. But a miracle was granted him, a touch of heat from the fingers on the other side of the mirror. And the words he had always felt but never heard uttered until that moment:

"I love you."

Just for that last second in time they shared each other's warmth. Then Stacker felt the warmth fade, and then there was nothing at all.


End file.
